


Permanently Black and Blue

by May the Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (bloodofpyke)



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 18:27:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodofpyke/pseuds/May%20the%20Odds%20Be%20Ever%20in%20Your%20Favor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the Games, after the war, after the rebellion (but before the epilogue).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She woke screaming.

She woke screaming, throat raw, pricked in a cold sweat, hands grasping for something, anything to keep her anchored. She came up empty (she always came up empty).

She would not sleep for the rest of the night (but then, she was used to that).

***

They had grown back together, she would tell herself, looking at Peeta, always looking at Peeta, but there was a twinge somewhere deep in her chest as she said it, the words dragging across her mind.

He still had flashbacks, she knew, and she still had nightmares; it was to be expected, they had been told, in the aftermath of the war, of the rebellion they had never chosen. They never talked about them, their little relapses into the war, as if the act of remaining silent could sweep it away, like dust under a rug, but she could feel them crackling in the air, a dangerous current running alongside them.

***

She filled her days with him, watching him paint, watching him bake. It was easier than the alternative (everything was easier than the alternative these days, and she felt that one day the bodies and names piled up would teeter and collapse all around her until she couldn’t find her way out) (she couldn’t tell if the idea frightened her or not).

 _I’m just watching out for him; it’s what we do,_ she would tell herself as he mixed and dabbled, kneaded and molded. They rarely talked anymore; they had been through a war together, what words were left to them?

But it was nice, she thought, to sit in silence, to not feel haunted for the fleetest of moments.

***

She woke screaming.

She woke screaming, and she could feel the blood streaming down her hands (was it real? she couldn’t tell, could never tell these days), could feel the darkness pressing all around her.

And then there were hands on hers, a heartbeat against hers, whispers ghosting across her cheek.

She would sleep tonight _(he’s just watching out for me; it’s what we do)._


	2. Chapter 2

He wasn’t sleeping anymore.

If he was being honest with himself, it felt like forever since he’d been able to sleep. There was always something in the way; from the bakery to the Games to his time spent in the capitol, it seemed like he was closing his eyes only to open them moments later.

And then there was Katniss, always Katniss.

***

It was always a nightmare that wrenched him from sleep these days, and the feel of it was so familiar he almost welcomed it, grateful for anything that wasn’t tinged with torture.

Almost.

He would lay there, frozen to his bed as if by ice, the fear biting at the back of his throat, and he would remember other nightmares: nightmares of Katniss, in a pool of blood, her eyes open and unseeing; of Katniss felled by an arrow to the chest; of a raging fire and Katniss trapped inside, trapped inside while he was trapped outside, no way in. These were different, though, yellowed at the edges, almost, and fading. And it wasn’t Katniss who was dead, who was trapped, in these new nightmares; it was him, with Katniss standing behind him, an empty bow in hand, a bloodied knife gripped between clenched fingers.

He would choke out breaths from shaky lungs, the world going blurry (or was that just the dark? he couldn’t tell, was having trouble telling the difference between real and not real), and he would remember the nights on the train.

_Wrapped up in each other,_ he would think, remembering the beat of her heart on his skin and the way her fingers had grasped at his (he had smiled into her hair, and it had smelled of flowers; dusty and wild, but sweet nonetheless). _I was going to save her_ , he would think, knowing even as the words crossed his mind that Katniss had never needed saving. _Not like me._ His fists pounded into the pillow at that, and he could feel himself falling falling falling until the world was yellowed and fading.


End file.
